


Glitch

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Talon!Damian AU [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He either had perfect timing or terrible, and Tim would never be able to tell you which.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitch

**Author's Note:**

> Damian’s starting to realize, at the very least, that the Court’s way of dealing with things is not great, but Owlman is a tad (read: very) abusive and Damian feels he has nowhere to go. He’s pent up a lot of emotions, and tries to block out the fact that the Court is ‘bad’ both in general and by somewhat vaguely trying to protect the Batfam sometimes. Basically he’s very unstable in this AU and I feel terrible about that. :( Also, when Tim mentions 'again’ I’m referencing Batman Inc 5, when Bruce was willing to trade Damian for Gotham.

He either had perfect timing or terrible, and Tim would never be able to tell you which.

He came across the scene with just seconds to spare. Damian - the Court’s newest Talon - had the man cornered against the wall, knives already sticking out of his arms and chest. The man was pleading for his life, but it was falling on deaf ears. As he dropped closer, Tim saw that it wasn’t just some anonymous man, it was the Riddler.

And Damian was about to stab him in the throat.

His brain went into automatic, then. He tossed a line, swung down into the alleyway, aimed his arc at Damian. He meant to hit the boy’s ribs, but even at the last second he remembered who he was kicking and held back. Instead of the ribs, he smacked his feet against Damian’s lower side, and he went skidding across the pavement. 

Tim glossed over a fancy landing, merely dropping to his feet in front of Riddler.

“Can you move?” He asked quietly, harshly, eyes never leaving Damian.

“Not quickly.” Riddler answered in a gasp, clutching at his arm. “But yes.”

“Then go.” Tim muttered. Damian rolled to his side, teeth bared almost wildly.

“Red Robin,” Riddler asked. “Who…”

“Just _go_ , Nygma!” Tim hissed, extending his bo-staff as Damian twisted to his feet. Riddler didn’t need any more encouragement, and went trotting clumsily to the street.

"He was _mine_.” Damian spat. The goggles covering his eyes looked too big for his painfully pale face.

"He wasn’t.” Tim tried, simply. He stepped forward. “Damian, please, you know-”

” _Why does everybody call me that!_ “ Damian screamed, suddenly in the air, at least three knives in each hand. He flipped - courtesy of Dick’s acrobatic training no doubt - and Tim never had a chance. The Talon landed on his chest, knocked him to his back and, knives still wedged between his fingers began punching. Viciously, carelessly, with all his might. "That! Is! Not! My! _Name!_ ”

And Tim knew he should defend himself. Knew he should toss the boy off, just push him away. He could after all. The Court changed his mind but not his physiology. He was still tiny, still the smallest of all of them, still…

He was still Tim’s little brother.

It didn’t take long for him to taste blood. To feel it it dripping down his face, seeping through the new gashes on his cowl and uniform. And Damian kept going, kept shrieking and punching, long after he probably should have stopped. It was primal, this fury he had. Far worse than Tim had ever seen, even when he’d first met the child.

"Why,” Damian asked, slashing at Tim’s cheeks, his forehead. “You, you and all of the Batman’s allies.” Punch, punch, slash, stab, punch. “You _all_ call me that. Why?” Punchpunchslice _punch_. “Why, why, _why_?!”

"Because!” Tim shifted, held his arms up, caught his thumbs against Damian’s gauntlets, gripped them tightly. Damian slowed, only fighting a little, only for a second. He couldn’t see Damian’s eyes behind the metallic goggles, but oh how he wished he could. “Because that’s who you are.” He squeezed Damian’s arms, gave them a quick shake. “You are Damian Wayne, and you are my brother.”

“No.” Damian said stubbornly.

“Yes.” Tim tried. He could already feel the slight blood loss taking affect. He felt woozy, the corners of his vision were darkening. But he had to try. For Bruce’s sake, and Dick’s, and everyone else’s, he had to try to get their little boy back. “You were Robin, arguably the best of all of us, and we loved you, Damian.”

“No!” Damian pulled backwards, and Tim, loathe he was to admit it, was already too weak to hold him. Damian scrambled backwards, landing on his butt, in a puddle. Tim pushed himself up on his elbows. “No, I have no siblings. I wasn’t Robin, and my name…” His voice cracked. In pain, in fear, who knew. “My name is _not_ Damian!”

Tim just coughed, spitting blood a few feet away.

"My name is _Talon_ and…” Damian’s masked eyes seemed to search the alleyway. “And you _took my kill_. You need to be punished. You…you need to _replace_ it.”

And Dick would be so disappointed in him. Kon, too. And Cassie and Steph and Bart…

"Okay. I will.”

He smiled then. All blood-stained teeth and drool. It seemed to disarm Damian a little bit. He jerked back, but still absently reached for one of the knives strapped on his chest. He stumbled to his feet, and threw the knife.

It was almost instantly intercepted by a batarang.

Both Tim and Damian looked up to the roof, where Bruce stood, in all his waving cape glory.

“No one is dying by your hand tonight, Da…Talon.” And Tim knew it hurt Bruce - near killed him - to refer to Damian as such. He bypassed the fire escape completely, landing instead on the dumpster nearby. He crouched intimidatingly.

“No one but you.” Damian’s tone was emotionless, somehow already back on the mission, despite his seemingly unstable demeanor since Tim came upon him.

Tim was nothing now, apparently, as Damian launched over him, letting out a loud battle cry as he threw himself upwards. His blade hit the armor on Bruce’s arm, barely stuck into it at all, but enough that there was resistance and Damian couldn’t get it out. Bruce took the chance then, grabbing Damian’s arm and whipping him around against the wall.

Damian grunted as his head bounced off the brick, groaned as he slid back to the ground. He blinked blearily as Bruce stood over him.

“Bruce…” Tim muttered, rolling to his side.

“T-the Court has sentenced you to die.” Damian stuttered miserably, looking up. “B-B-Batman…Batman must die.”

Bruce crouched.

Damian’s head lolled to the side. “Owl…Owlman said…”

Bruce reached out, pulling the goggles off of Damian’s face. His eyes were watery, his skin near translucent. And to Tim, he just looked so damn _defeated_.

“If I don’t succeed, he’ll kill me.” Damian whispered. “I don’t…I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t.” And in a twist of events, Bruce dropped the goggles, using the same hand to pull his own cowl back.

“I don’t…” Damian’s face scrunched, like he was confused, staring up at his father’s open face. “I don’t…want to…kill you?”

And - maybe Tim’s blood loss was greater than he thought - Bruce _smiled_. “That’s my boy.”

“Not anymore.”

Damian jumped. Tim blinked. Bruce stood and spun around, taking a protective stance in front of both his sons.

Owlman strolled leisurely into the alleyway.

“Leave.” Bruce demanded. Owlman continued forward, only stopping when he and Bruce were nose to nose. Lincoln smirked. Bruce scowled. “You will not take him again.”

“Let me guess. Over your dead body, right?” Lincoln barked in laughter. “Trust me, _brother_ , it can definitely be arranged.”

“This ends here, March.” Bruce promised. “Red Robin, take the Talon and get out of here.”

Tim nodded, gathered all of his strength, shifted to his knees, and glanced to the wall.

He couldn’t hold back his gasp.

“Talon?” Owlman purred. “What Talon?”

Damian was gone.

Bruce spun around, looking a little silly as he twirled. “Where is he?“ He called loudly. It was a full shout by the time he looked back to his nemesis. “ _Where is he?!_ ”

"For me to know, Bruce, dear.” Lincoln grinned. And Bruce couldn’t help it. He punched, throwing Lincoln into the wall and holding him by his throat. That didn’t stop Owlman from laughing still, though. “Ah, ah! Careful, Batman. You can’t see him, but he’s still here. One false move by you and I can call him back in a second, and having him bleed out your friend there.”

And to Tim, that was okay. He could be the bait. He already had a plan. Damian got close enough, he’d grab him, hold him down while Batman and Owlman duked it out. Keep repeating his name until he broke the child completely. Race him home, to where Dick could pick up his pieces.

But then Bruce let go of Lincoln March’s neck. Backed up a step.

“He’s stronger than you.” Bruce warned. “Your hold on him has always been weak. It’s only a matter of time.”

Tim felt his eyes widening. No, no, no, no. Bruce was _not_ doing this, not _again_. He was not _picking something else over Damian again_.

“He will break free from you.” Bruce continued. “I _will_ get him back.”

"You tell yourself that.” Owlman shrugged. “But I suppose you’re right. You’ll get him back. Eventually.”

Suddenly he snapped his fingers, and a tiny shadow leapt across the roof gap. Owlman followed, jumping up the fire escape like he could fly.

“The only question is…” He landed next to Damian, wrapped a hand around his neck and gave him a not-so-gentle shake. Damian didn’t react, just stared ahead, clearly trying to dissociate himself from his surroundings. “Will he be alive when you do?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Talon!Damian stories](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/search/talon%21damian)


End file.
